The Reluctant Reformer

Everyone knew Lady X... or, at least, everyone knew of her. The masked courtesan was reputedly a noblewoman fallen on hard times. What Lord James had not known was that she was Lady Margaret Wentworth -- the feisty sister of his best friend. Gerald claimed his sibling was beautiful, virtuous, naive; and he had forced James into an oath of protection. But when James

Overview

Everyone knew Lady X... or, at least, everyone knew of her. The masked courtesan was reputedly a noblewoman fallen on hard times. What Lord James had not known was that she was Lady Margaret Wentworth -- the feisty sister of his best friend. Gerald claimed his sibling was beautiful, virtuous, naive; and he had forced James into an oath of protection. But when James tracked the girl down to a house of ill repute, what other explanation could there be but that Maggie was London's most enigmatic wanton?

Snatching the wench away would be a ticklish business, and after that things would get harder. James had to ignore his quarry's violent protests that he was an idiot, that she was never the infamous X. He had to find a way to reform the hoyden, to save her from scandal. He had to steer clear of his own meddling aunt -- all while keeping his hands off those luscious goods that the rest of the ton had reputedly sampled. And, with Maggie, hardest of all would be keeping himself from falling in love.

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The Reluctant Reformer

Dorchester Publishing

Chapter One

London, March 1815

Maggie shifted her feet slightly, trying to ease the ache her cramped position was causing in her legs. The small movement was enough to bang her knees against the door of the armoire she presently sat in, making it rattle. Wincing at the pain that shot up her leg, Maggie was busily rubbing the appendage when the cupboard door opened and soft candlelight spilled in over her.

"Stop yer banging about, or ye'll be givin' away that yer in there."

"Daisy, is it?"

"Maisey," the girl corrected.

"Yes, well ... Maisey then," Maggie said. "This is all really rather silly, and quite beyond the information for which I was looking. All I really wanted was to -"

The sound of a rap at the door made Maggie pause, alarmed. The young woman before her was startled too, but then steel seemed to enter her eyes and she shoved Maggie firmly back into the armoire. Maggie landed on her behind with a grunt.

"It's too late to be changing yer mind now, m'lady," she announced. "Madame says yer to watch, and watch you will. Now keep quiet," she hissed. The door closed with a decided snap.

Frowning, Maggie lifted a hand to push experimentally forward, but the door stayed firmly shut. The girl had locked her in! Well, this is just bloody beautiful, she thought irritably.Brilliant! I do tend to get myself into fixes, don't I?

Not that she could have gotten out now, anyway. Maggie considered herself a thoroughly modern young woman: highly intelligent, independent, and uncaring of what others thought of her - but only to a certain degree. Even she, thoroughly modern as she was, hesitated to deliberately draw the wrath and scorn of the ton down upon herself. Especially when she merely had to sit quietly for a short time to avoid scandal completely. Patience was not one of her natural virtues, but she had been attempting to cultivate it of late.

She had barely finished that thought when it occurred to her that she was crouching in a small armoire in one of the rooms of the infamous Madame Dubarry's. This was a brothel for God's sake! What she would learn in this room ... well, she just shouldn't know yet! What's more, she certainly couldn't write about it. Good Lord, how had she ended up here? Madame Dubarry, of course. The woman had been slow to warm to the idea of allowing Maggie to interview her and some of her girls for a story for the Daily Express. Once Madame had agreed to the undertaking, however, she had become quite enthusiastic. "You must witness this, Lady Maggie," she'd said. "Really, you must. You shall thank me for it, I promise."

Before Maggie could even collect herself enough to ask what she must see and why, they had reached this chamber. Madame had shoved her inside, installed her in the cupboard with admonishments to remain quiet and see, then had instructed young Maisey that Maggie was to witness the night's proceedings.

Really, had she been a bit quicker, Maggie might have managed to flee the room before Maisey's customer arrived. Now it appeared she was quite stuck.

The man's voice struck a chord of recognition within her. It sounded amazingly like ... Her gaze slid to the crack despite her best intentions, and Maggie drew her breath in with a hiss. Good Lord, it was him: Pastor Frances. Her eyes narrowed on the man. She had just been discussing the fact that he was paying her court, and that she thought he might soon propose, when Madame Dubarry had rushed her up here. Maggie was distracted from further thought by an odd question from Maisey.

"Who am I to be tonight, m'lord? Yer mother?"

Maggie's eyes widened in shocked dismay at that, but they nearly fell out of her head at Frances's answer.

"Nay. Tonight you shall be my dear Margaret."

"Sweet Lady Wentworth, is it?" Maggie was almost too shocked by Frances' presence to notice the irony in the young prostitute's voice. Almost. "The woman who personifies the very word 'lady'? The woman who never sets a foot wrong? Who is discretion herself?"

"Aye, my sweet Maggie. I have decided to propose to her. I arranged to take her to the Cousin's ball tonight. I shall propose to her afterward. I believe she will accept."

"Fine, then. Ye step on out into the hall, and I shall change. Give me five minutes, then knock."

"Why must I wait in the hall?" Frances whined.

"Well, ye want it to be as if ye were proposing to Lady Wentworth, don't ye? Would she dress in front of ye? Get on with ye. I'll only be a minute, and this will seem more real."

Through the crack, Maggie saw Maisey usher Frances out of the room as firmly as she herself had been shoved into the armoire. The prostitute closed the door behind the pastor with a snap, then locked it. She was a no-nonsense type of woman, it seemed.

"Thank God!" Maggie burst out of the armoire as Maisey unbolted it. " Now get me out of here."

"You know where the door is," came Maisey's unconcerned response. The young woman was digging through her clothing, picking up and discarding gown after gown.

Maggie frowned and glanced from the door to the girl. "I can hardly exit that way. Pastor Frances is out there."

"Then, I guess ye'll just have to get back in the closet, won't ye?" Maisey snapped, discarding yet another gown.

Maggie looked desperately around the room. "There simply has to be a way out of here."

"There isn't," the girl assured her. "Unless ye can fly out the window."

"The window!" Maggie hurried over to it, then pushed it open and leaned out. They were on the third floor. The ground was a long way down. She was about to give up on the idea when her gaze dropped to the wall, and she saw a ledge a couple of feet below the window. It was just wide enough that she could walk it if she were careful. She would be careful, she decided.

"Here!" Maisey grabbed her arm as Maggie sat on the sill and made to climb out. "What? Are ye daft? Ye'll break yer bones jumpin' from here." "I am not going to jump," Maggie hissed with exasperation, tugging her arm free. "I am going to walk that ledge to the next room, climb in through the window there, and get away."

Leaning out, Maisey peered down, her eyes widening slightly in surprise. "Oh well." The girl hesitated slightly, her gaze calculating, then announced, "Well, that would be nice, wouldn't it? Except that Lady X and Lord Hastings are in one of the rooms next door. Yer climbin' in on them would cause the scandal of the decade."

Maggie frowned at the news. Everyone, absolutely everyone, had heard of the infamous Lady X. She was the most famous of Agatha Dubarry's prostitutes, and as such, Maggie had not been allowed to speak to her, though she had caught a glimpse of the woman earlier while interviewing the others. From what she had spied, Lady X was a lovely blonde with a perfect figure, full lips and deep mysterious eyes. That was all she had seen. Actually, it was all anyone ever saw. Her face was always covered by a blazing red mask that never came off. Men paid highly for the privilege of bedding her, each trying to discover her true identity, but no one had yet figured it out. It was rumored that the woman was actually a lady of nobility who worked thusly on the side to help shore her family's sagging coffers. While many disputed the idea, claiming that surely no lady would risk being discovered in such an endeavor, there were enough men willing to dig deep into their pockets to try to find out, and Madame Dubarry was doing very well.

Maggie definitely did not need the scandal of walking in on the woman while she was entertaining, especially Lord Hastings, one of the most distinguished royal councilors.

"Which room are they in?" she asked.

Maisey smiled, the expression of a cat that had cornered a mouse. "Let me use your gown."

Maggie stiffened, then shook her head. "I shall find out for myself," she declared. Sliding her legs over onto the window ledge, she straightened slowly, clinging nervously to the sill as she fought to maintain her balance.

"Have it your way," Maisey said with amusement, watching. "But it does look a long way down, and I know I shouldn't like to make it all the way along that ledge to a window, simply to have to turn back and travel twice the distance to another." At Maggie's obvious uncertainty, Maisey pressed her advantage. "'Tis just a gown. I'll give ye one o' me own to wear in its place. Then, I'll send yers back to ye first thing on the morrow, once it's been cleaned."

Maggie took in the hopeful gaze of the prostitute, peered at the ground such a long way down, then shifted cautiously on the ledge. Her mind was made up by her jumping stomach. Cursing under her breath, she maneuvered back into the room and eyed Maisey unhappily. "The other room is empty, is it not?" The prostitute nodded solemnly.

"Fine. But -" A tap at the door cut her off, and both women glanced over sharply as the doorknob jiggled. Thankfully, Maisey had locked it.

"Are you ready yet, my dear?" Frances cooed in a sickening tone. Maggie had never heard it from the usually dignified man.

"Oh ... stuff!" Maggie huffed. She set to work disrobing as quickly as she could. Looking pleased, Maisey began to undress as well. The two worked in virtual silence until Maggie got her gown off. She handed it over, then crossed her arms, rubbing them as goose bumps began to form on her flesh.

Whirling, Maisey hurried to her armoire, returning a moment later with a plain red silk mask for Maggie to wear. "Here, put this on. With the mask, my clothes, and yer cloak, ye should escape all right."

Maggie glanced at it curiously. "Is this Lady X's mask?"

"Nay. Mine. Lady X's mask is far fancier."

Maisey helped her climb back out onto this ledge, hissing that Lady X and Lord Hastings were in the room on the left. She then hurried to away to attend the impatiently pounding Frances.

Relieved to be out of her predicament, Maggie had immediately inched along the ledge to the next window, expecting to find the room empty. Unfortunately, what she had not realized was that Maisey had been referring to her own left which, of course, with Maggie clinging to the wall facing her, was Maggie's right. Which meant Maggie should have gone right. Which she hadn't. She had come all this way for nothing, for while curtains shrouded the window making the images beyond blurred and foggy, they were discernible enough to tell it was two people engaged in the most energetic round of ride the pony it had ever been Maggie's misfortune to witness.

She forced herself to move past the window and continue on toward the next one along the wall.

# # # James stood uncomfortably inside the foyer at Madame Dubarry's, waiting impatiently for Johnstone to conclude his whispered conversation with the Madame herself. Ramsey had already been approached by, and turned down the offers of, three of the madame's girls, one of whom had offered to do a thing or two that he had never considered trying before. He certainly did not wish to attempt it now, here in this place.

"It's done, yer lordship. Madame says Lady X is with Lord Hastings now, but you can have a go at her next."

"I do not intend to 'have a go at her,' as you so delicately put it," James hissed.

A flicker of irritation crossed Johnstone's face before he controlled it. "I didn't think you would, my lord. But I could hardly tell her ye wished to kidnap the girl, now could I?"

"I am not kidnapping her. I am rescuing her."

"Surely you didn't think to march out the front door with her, did ye? Dubarry ain't gonna like that. The girl is her golden goose."

"Ah, yes." James sighed; then he too stared at the clock on the wall. Ten minutes.

# # # Maggie grabbed the edge of the window with relief and paused to rest her face on the cold glass. She was sweating. Amazingly enough, she was more terrified of falling than of discovery - which was amazing because she could remember a time when the prospect of social ruin had been more frightful than anything. But that had been when she could afford such pretty concerns as her reputation, before she'd had the burden of so many lives piled on her shoulders. "Damn you, Gerald, for dying anyway," she cursed in a whisper, then immediately - if silently - apologized to her poor brother for cussing him so. Gerald had loved life. Every moment of the short time he had spent on earth he had lived as if it might be his last. He had not complained when he was ordered off to fight Napoleon. And she had no doubt he had given his life in battle with as much passion and as little regret as he had lived. It was just too damn bad he'd been forced to leave her in such a fix.

# # # "Lord Ramsey, we'll have to sneak her down the back stairs and smuggle her through the kitchen."

James nodded at Johnstone's suggestion. After a brief but thorough examination of the brothel, it did indeed seem the best way to get the girl out. "Go have my driver move the carriage to the alley," he instructed, his eyes on the clock in the hall. "Hastings's time is up. I'll go see if he has left yet."

Nodding, Johnstone hurried away toward the front door and James started upstairs. He was at the top of the steps before he realized that the runner hadn't told him in which room Lady X was supposed to be. He was about to return down stairs to ask Madame Dubarry, when he changed his mind. He would recognize Hastings. Everyone knew of Hastings, if not in person, then by reputation. He was second only to the king in power. Whichever room Hastings exited was the one he sought.

He had just come to that conclusion when the thud of a door made him turn back around on the landing. A glance up the hall showed Hastings strolling jauntily toward him, whistling under his breath as he straightened his cravat. James almost cursed aloud. He had been too slow and couldn't be sure from which room the man had come. There were several possibilities.

He would try them all, he decided resolutely. Giving Hastings a curt nod, he moved purposely past him to set about his work.

# # # The thud of a closing door, tore Maggie from her thoughts, and she glanced through the window into the empty room to which she had inched. If her thoughts had distracted her so long that this room was now occupied too, she thought she might very well throw up. She did not think she had the stamina or nerve to traverse the length of the ledge again. It was with some relief that she saw the room appeared empty. Letting her breath out, she reached down, opened the window, and silently slipped inside. Now that they were on solid ground, her legs were more than just a bit rubbery. Ordering them to stand firm, Maggie strode quickly across the room, pausing at the door to take a breath and listen for sounds in the hallway. When she heard only silence, she eased the door open. Maggie was about to step out of the room when she recalled the mask Maisey had given her. She had shoved it in her pocket in her rush to finish dressing and escape. It would be better to wear the thing. So thinking, she turned back into the room and started to lift the flimsy red silk mask to her face. Her eyes fell on a bed and a woman gaping at her from the shadows within. The two females goggled at each other briefly, then the sound of footsteps in the hall reminded Maggie that she had to get out of here. She quickly finished raising the mask to her face, tied the strings of it in place, then slipped from the room without a murmur of apology. She had just finished pulling the door closed when a hand slid around her from behind, covering her mouth and smothering her startled cry. She was lifted bodily, bundled in her cape, and carted swiftly down the hall.

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This tale is a delightful fresh gem....from the opening pages that finds the sensible, but somehow always in odd situations, Maggie dressed as the famous Madam X balanced precarious on the window ledge outside a Baudy House, she can little know her climbing back inside will be witnessed by her brother's friend, James. See Maggie's brother died at the battle of Waterloo saving James' life, and as he lie dying in James' arms, he extracted a promise that James would protect and take care of Maggie. Maggie has found herself in a difficult situation of the family money passing on to the heir, leaving her with a huge London townhouse and a large staff of servants she cannot turn away....so she is forced to 'moonlight' to keep everyone fed and housed. James is sure she is the famous Madam X, and woman of great allure and the current rage of the males of the Ton...and he is going to reform her and starts by kidnapping Maggie....for her own good, mind you!! It is one mad comedy of errors and one delightful read.

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I loved it! Lynsay Sands is excellent! I believe I have read everything she has published, and I can say she does not dissapoint. If you have not gotten to enjoy her work yet, give it a try!